


Riding Sensation

by Pink_and_Velvet



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Kissing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Morning After, Orgasm Denial, Rough Sex, Shower Sex, Slight PWP, Voyeurism, but not really, handjobs, hangovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 10:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: Iceman felt as though he was flying, the knowing feeling of reaching Mach 2 was washing over his head. He’d gotten erect with Slider at his back before but this time, he’s on the ground. He’s not in control.





	Riding Sensation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bottomgun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottomgun/gifts).



> For the lovely bottomgun, you deserve this girl! There’s just So. Much. Potential.
> 
> This is also the most pornographic thing I have ever written, just a warning. I will not apologise. ;)

Hazel eyes flickered open at the sight off the sun creeping through the blinds. He threw an arm over his eyes and groaned. His head still hurt like mad, he rolled himself onto one side with a huff and pressed his nose into his pillow. There was no way he was falling back asleep now.

Iceman was alone. Strange. He cautiously sat up, head still cloudy with whatever the hell he’d drank last night. He wasn’t a big drinker but he just liked to have something in his hands. Slider was oddly persuasive, for reasons he couldn’t identify this hungover.

“Kerner, the hell are you?”

There was a slight ring in his ears. He tried to comprehend his surroundings: he wasn’t in his bedroom, these were not his immaculate, crisp navy blue sheets. He detangled himself from the bedsheets and heaved his body to his feet. With a yawn, he picked up his disgraced boxers from the floor, fingered them, decided he was too tired to grab himself a fresh pair from down the hall, and chucked them back to the floor.

“Slider?” There were no icy tones. He felt warm, mellow.

The muted hiss of the shower answered his question. He smirked to himself, stretched, then strutted into the bathroom. He was thankful that Slider’s connected bathroom didn’t have a lock, not that Slider would mind a visitor at this ungodly hour anyway. They were both way too cocky to worry about that.

Apparently he hadn’t been heard. The shower door was shut, the fog coated the glass. Iceman sighed, a little pissed that he was missing the show. But soon after, his shark grin plastered his face. He hadn’t been heard, he was reminded.

Maybe with less tequila (wasn’t it?) still circulating his veins and just being more awake in general, he could have planned a much grander, more desirable entrance. Something that would bring Ron to his knees, something that would bring Ron’s mouth straight to his cock. But he settled for simply opening the door and shutting himself in, immersing himself in the steam.

His eyes roamed all over Slider’s naked form. The droplets of water that fell from his hair, his skin gleamed as the water beat its way around him. Iceman watched, his eyes widened, as Slider slowly turned, face twisted into a moue, before rolling his eyes and laughing at Iceman’s bewildered face.

“Morning to you too, Kazansky.”

“Save It.”

“Save what?” Slider asked, coy. His eyes narrowed as a faint blush settled across Iceman’s cheeks. It was a similar flush to his ‘ _too much alcohol I can’t handle, is singing through my veins_ ’ flush. Or, the ‘ _I’m on my knees, I’m coming_ ’ flush.

Maybe if he’d had a clearer head, he would have thought out what walking in on his best friend in the shower meant, what spending another passionate night in his bed meant and why the hell he kept on coming back to his RIO’s bed.

He didn’t question a thing.

Iceman slammed him against the tile wall, hand in his hair, tongue in his mouth. He felt Slider tense, if only for a split second and knew, that Slider was fighting the urge to laugh at his sudden needy guise. So, he decided, that kissing Kerner senseless was really the best way to rid him of these thoughts, any other degrading words he could say, were swallowed by Iceman and his tongue. It seemed strange in theory but, Slider shut up. Iceman ground his hips against him, desperate.

A sudden, forceful movement and he was pinned. Slider had switched them around so, Iceman’s face was pressed up against the slick tile, nipples hard up against it. Iceman turned his head to the side, his gaze fell onto his Navy ring. He concentrated on the glint of the rich sapphire until, he gasped. Another hand wrapped itself atop his, braced against the wall.

He shivered and moaned, the trail of another hand trailed down his left side, wrapping around his cut hip. Iceman couldn’t help himself, he coaxed Slider closer, with a sudden pop of his hip. Touches like fire across his sensitive side. He widened his stance, pushed his hips backward. He took a deep breath, eyes never leaving Slider’s right hand atop his.

At that moment, a crooked finger sank lower, deeper. He rested his forehead on the wall and shut his eyes. He took a deep breath as the finger retreated, then entered him again. He relented, somewhat. Iceman’s own hand had left the security of the wall and had fallen to the danger that was his cock, hard and leaking. He circled his nimble fingers around it and managed two strokes before his hand was batted away with force. He moaned again at Slider’s silent order. He kept both hands clawing at the smooth tile. He obeyed, of course he did.

His hips buckled backwards, Slider’s hand had picked up the pace. Iceman was fucking himself on at least three fingers, or was it all four? He couldn’t tell. The only thing he knew in that moment was that he was moaning himself hoarse. Already. He was too eager and pent up, itching to get some friction on his throbbing cock, that lightly brushed the wall as he writhed under Slider’s torturous hand.

Iceman felt empty. He felt alone, detached. Slider had withdrawn and placed one huge hand atop Iceman’s left shoulder. He couldn’t look at it, he focused on his breathing. His breaths were coming quick and fast, he cursed himself as Slider pushed in. Hard.

The thrusts began slow. A delicious moan dropped from Iceman’s perfectly plush lips with each movement. Iceman wasn’t usually so vocal during sex but today, something within him had stopped. His regulations were down, his regulations were dropped.

He felt Slider’s dog tags hit his back, his own collided with the wall ahead, with a slight thud. They punctuated each thrust, they sang of the rhythm of their hips. His eyes slid closed, he tipped his head back.

He changed his angle and groaned, low. His prostate was nailed. The sensation sharp. Painful. Shivers ran up his spine and his knees quivered, he clutched fast at the dripping tile. The angle was perfect as the thrusts increased with such intensity that he couldn’t keep himself quiet. He could barely comprehend the pleasure radiating from between his trembling legs.

Iceman felt as though he was flying, the knowing feeling of reaching Mach 2 was washing over his head. He’d gotten erect flying before, not that he’d ever told anyone about it. That was the only way he could explain this: he was riding sensation. With a raw, taut, animalistic need. His hips were buckling back to meet Slider’s as Slider now thrusted in earnest, his stokes deep and powerful.

Groans were growing louder, synching up. They were both close, Iceman knew it. A little longer, he’d lose it completely.

Slick skin slapped against skin, his slutty moans were wild and untamed. He jumped, as a hand grasped his cock, jerking him off in time with the thrusts. Then on autopilot, Iceman snapped back into action, fucking Slider on both ends, hands balled into fists as he let out a violent string of curses.

Iceman froze.

He stood up almost straight as Slider stroked him through, the intense climax that mercilessly washed over him. He clutched to Slider behind him, he fought with himself to not topple over as his come coated Slider’s hand and the tile in front of him. A moment over, Slider followed him down. Iceman revelled in the moans, the release that was filling him. With his last ounce of strength, he wiggled his ass around Slider, pushed himself back up against him, back flush to his chest, draining the last of Slider’s come from his heaving body.

Iceman felt empty as Slider pulled out and began to rinse himself off under the water. He turned to watch him, watch his hands travel miles of rippling muscle, dripping wet pecs. Their eyes met and Iceman looked down at himself, he heaved a near breathless chuckle. How his body could even consider getting hard again was truly beyond him at that point, he’d just come as hard as he’d ever come in his life. He had no context for this.

No context other than, one tanned arm shooting forward, fisting Slider’s hair as he revelled in the surprised gasp. Iceman’s hips ground slow up against Slider’s thigh. His fingers clutched at his back, then his ass. There was no way he’d be getting anymore than this but that was okay. Iceman promised himself, he’d take it slow, savour the moment.

Why not? He wondered. They had plenty of time. 


End file.
